The Top 5 Valentines of a Perennially Single Girl

Graphic by Sarah McCrimmon

My relationship with Valentine’s Day has always been like a box of chocolates. If you’ve never seen the 1994 Tom Hanks film, “Forrest Gump,” I’m not going to pass judgment because I actually haven’t either, but I’m old enough to know how the line goes. I never know what I’m going to get from this made-up loved-up holiday. I do have the impressive ability to remain single every time it rolls around though. My singleness hasn’t always been a conscious effort, but it has offered some insights on how this day should be celebrated. Given my unconventional experience, I am proposing that we collectively end the narrative that being single on Valentine’s Day is the worst thing in the world and to convince any lonely hearts (myself included) of this I’ve ranked my top five February Fourteenths. 

Valentine’s Day 2012

In the fifth spot, we have what I endearingly refer to as the Sad Single Girl Cryfest. I would say this is the closest I’ve come to a “traditional” observation of Cupid’s Day. This scenario was straight out of a romantic comedy, not the part where the lead finally ends up with the object of their affections but the part somewhere near the middle where pining is the name of the game. In my defense, I was 15 years old with a crush on some dude whose face eventually joined that forgotten file in my brain reserved for boys I never dated. Still, that year had been spent shooting fleeting glances out the door of my French class, into his Spanish class across the hall. On a Tuesday in February, the walkways were crowded with teenage couples ignoring the set PDA rules more than usual. A few heart-shaped balloons floated over heads as I managed to peer at that lanky boy before the bell rang. I had dressed up in red, the color that my teen magazines guaranteed would make him notice me. He did not. After school, I walked home disillusioned, accompanied by a leftover box of Valentine cookies. I made a date with my bed, devoured the pink frosted sugar cookies and cried while Taylor Swift’s “Sparks Fly” played on a loop. I’m aware of just how pitiful this particular night sounds. Some might be questioning how it could be a top-five night of anything outside of the most pathetic nights in human existence. It made the list because it was indulgent. The Sad Single Girl Cryfest wasn’t about the boy as much as it was about letting myself feel the overwhelming emotions that came with that age. It was a love affair with melodrama.

Valentine’s Day 2014

The fourth spot belongs to the year that I found myself in a love triangle of sorts. If two high school girls both liking a massive flirt who was probably indifferent to them could be considered a love triangle, that is. I was 17 and working at a pizza arcade bowling hybrid, a gig which was sweeter than I would ever admit to then. My friends were coworkers. There was free pizza. The job clearly had its perks, one, in particular, being the aforementioned flirt. He was popular; not only at school as a football player, but at the restaurant, where his charisma made him a favorite among the workforce. Therefore, my pal and I were, to put it mildly, elated to see that we were scheduled with him on the fourteenth. However, I think we were both a smidge less thrilled to see each other’s names on the board. From the moment this boy materialized his dreamy self into our workplace, there was an unspoken agreement between us to not let his presence deter our friendship. As seniors, our friendship, like my academic motivation that year, was running on fumes. We had been close friends for most of high school, but the closer graduation, the further we got from each other. We worked with the tension of a fraying friendship and harbored hopes that the day might inspire some romance in between bussing dirty plates and spritzing bowling shoes with Lysol. We only acknowledged the holiday through the seemingly unanimous opinion that it was a sucky way to spend the night. A sentiment that might have been solely held by the work crush. There were no love declarations that night, but there were laughs. The kind of laughs elicited by three kids almost losing control of a loaded trash cart in the darkened back alley of the Dave and Buster’s meets Chuck E. Cheese restaurant where they worked. The doomed friendship with the girl didn’t last and the boy is a stranger now. The day however lives on in my mind not because it satisfied a Valentines ideal. It was what it was. A moment in time when just the excitement of romantic possibility was enchanting in itself. 

Valentine’s Day 2019

The third spot is dedicated to the unsung heroes of Valentine’s Day: friends. Wouldn’t it be nice if the emphasis put on romantic relationships was extended toward friendships, too? Keep in mind, this is coming from a serial crusher who actively avoids anyone she’s ever liked. Friends let friends hold unrealistic expectations when it comes to crushes. They let you visualize, project, while doing the same right alongside you. It’s not a delusion, it’s sisterhood. The fourteenth fell on a Thursday that year, I was 22 and crushing on a guy from my British Cinema class. A guy I had spoken to exactly zero times, but who I had gazed at “discreetly” through the corner of my eye an embarrassing amount of times. I had class with him that day, so I thought up a scenario that has yet to happen. That a guy who I’m kind of into will somehow realize it and make a move despite me doing absolutely nothing at all. Yet, class ended without him reading my mind like a millennial Edward Cullen. I quickly rebounded from this minute long disappointment with the company of my friends. First, with dinner at my favorite scratch kitchen restaurant where the broccoli cheese rice casserole was better than any valentine I’ve ever received. Following this meal of champions was the cinematic journey of “Isn’t It Romantic” (2019) starring Rebel Wilson. An underrated romantic comedy that reaffirmed that we are all deserving of love no matter what form it might take. Despite being single on this godforsaken day of love, we left the theater giddy and with a collective crush on Adam DeVine. There is an expectation that Valentine’s day must be celebrated with someone you love, which is without a doubt the way to go. Only love isn’t exclusive to romantic relationships, it’s present within yourself and it’s there when you’re surrounded by the friends who have seen you through the heartbreak.  

Valentine’s Day 2020

In second place, a Valentine’s Day fit for the infamous year of 2020. It was a month before the pandemic and lockdown and all the scary shit we’re all still working through. The event of the season was a local father-daughter dance. I would not be attending since I was 23 and the age limit was 18. My two younger sisters were going, and though I felt a bit slighted by this blatant case of ageism, I was already planning on watching “Pride and Prejudice” (2005) and consuming a tray of California Rolls. Then, my dad was called out of town for a job. The tickets were nonrefundable, so my mom figured one of my three adult brothers would fill in. They didn’t. Although one of them had a valid excuse, the other two couldn’t be bothered. This created a precedent rivaling the plot of “Mulan,” or even a 2000s comedy that Amanda Bynes would star in. The sister who had been barred now had to infiltrate this borderline sexist dance. My plan of attack included Step One: dressing like a teenager. I’m 5’1 and look relatively young, but vintage gowns have my heart. I ended up wearing a long sleeve back velvet number that made me look like a raven-haired Olsen twin. Step One failed. Step Two: entering the dance without a patriarchal male figure. The ticket taker asked no questions and waved us into the event center. We FaceTimed our dad for a bit and he looked on wistfully as my sisters danced and I ate. The only hitch came later at the photo booth when the  photographer outright said we couldn’t do a photo without a dad. I felt a unique kind of rage at that moment. I was my sisters’ surrogate father, and we deserved a commemorate photo, damn it. I said he wouldn’t be joining us. The photographer relented and took the photo of three smiling girls. A feat for single women everywhere. 

Valentine’s Day ????

Yes. I left the top spot blank. It’s not a placeholder for a future grand romance. I’m also not a fortune teller, so if somebody comes along and ends my Valentine’s single streak, don’t blame me. If I’ve learned anything throughout my many Valentine’s Days spent alone, it’s that special days happen when they happen. A random Thursday in February has just as much potential to be the most romantic day of your life as a random Wednesday in June. Love is personal and it’s foolish to believe that there’s only one way to celebrate it.